


If We Were Vampires

by BlueRobinWrites



Series: The Music Made Me Do It [4]
Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: F/M, Post Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:41:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23207158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueRobinWrites/pseuds/BlueRobinWrites
Summary: Based on the song by Jason Isbell and the 400 UnitListen to ithere
Relationships: Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike
Series: The Music Made Me Do It [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1668514
Comments: 32
Kudos: 40





	If We Were Vampires

_It's not the long, flowing dress that you're in  
Or the light coming off of your skin  
The fragile heart you protected for so long  
Or the mercy in your sense of right and wrong  
It's not your hands searching slow in the dark  
Or your nails leaving love's watermark  
It's not the way you talk me off the roof  
Your questions like directions to the truth_

_It's knowing that this can't go on forever  
Likely one of us will have to spend some days alone  
Maybe we'll get forty years together  
But one day I'll be gone  
Or one day you'll be gone_

_If we were vampires and death was a joke  
We'd go out on the sidewalk and smoke  
And laugh at all the lovers and their plans  
I wouldn't feel the need to hold your hand  
Maybe time running out is a gift  
I'll work hard 'til the end of my shift  
And give you every second I can find  
And hope it isn't me who's left behind_

He’d stopped counting the days somewhere along the way. Stopped counting the times he’d kissed her. Stopped numbering the freckles on her skin. He’s stopped tallying the times the skin on his back would sting slightly when he turned it into the warm water of a shower after an evening spent in her arms.

He’d started counting in the days after she’d told him she’d left her husband. He’d counted the times she’d smiled at him. The times he’d felt that swooping sensation in his stomach when she laughed at something he said. He’d tried to keep track of the number of times he’d had to tell himself to stop, to stop hoping for something that would never happen, to stop waiting for her to indicate she might be interested in him, to stop looking for opportunities to make a move and finally make her his.

It had finally happened one night on a walk back from the pub, both warmed from the alcohol consumption and cheerful over the closing of a long drawn out case. She’d moved house close to the office after her divorce and they’d fallen into the habit of having dinner and drinks together two or three nights a week. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d reminded himself that these weren’t dates, but instead work dinners, opportunities to keep each other aware of what was happening with their respective cases.

But that night, he’d walked her to the door of her flat, as he usually did, even though it meant he had to double back to his own, and she’d slipped off the edge of her step as she’d turned to laughingly tease him about something, he couldn’t remember what. What he did remember was the way her hair had floated across his coat as he’d clutched her to him. The scent of it filling his nose and clouding his mind worse than the alcohol he’d consumed. He’d counted the breaths (three), he’d taken as he’d held her to him. And he’d tried to count to ten before he’d kissed her, just to give her enough time to step away, but she hadn’t, so he had and the course of his life had changed in that moment, with her wine tart tongue chasing his.

And now they’d been together for years, months, eons. He couldn’t fathom a life without her. He’d found himself wishing to be invulnerable, immortal even. To never have to watch her age, be ill, wither…leave him.

He’d prayed to a God he wasn’t really sure he believed in, that the years would be kind to him so that he could have more time with her. More time to count her giggles. More time to hold her in the night. More time to feel the softness of her skin against him as they moved together.

More time, he’d begged.

Always more time.

He’d known they’d be lucky to get even thirty years together with him pushing forty by the time they’d finally come together. He’d tried not to see the years passing as sand slipping through the hourglass of his life. He’d tried to avoid seeing the tiny grey strands tinting the rose gold of her hair, or the crows feet gathering at the corners of her eyes, put there by years of laughter and smiles. She’d only ever grown more gorgeous to him.

He’d quit smoking in the year after they’d moved in together. She’d never said anything, but even by then he’d realized he’d need to do everything he could to extend his life expectancy because he wanted every possible moment he could have with her. He’d stuck to his diet and gotten into a workout routine. He’d shed pounds, packed on muscle and lowered his damn cholesterol.

More time.

Always more time.

But he’d not planned on this. He’d never thought he’d find himself counting the breaths she took laying in a hospital bed instead of their bed. He’d never thought he’d have to count the times her lashes fluttered as she dreamed while still under the influence of the anesthesia. He’d never dreamed of a time when he’d have to count the beeps of her heart beats, monitored by the horrid machine on the other side of her bed.

He’d loved her for time uncounted. He thought maybe he might have loved her even before he’d met her, that she’d been meant just for him, sent to him as a prize after the properly shit life he’d been dealt.

And he’d loved her so well.

He’d cherished her carefully, tenderly, lovingly.

He’d held her when she’d cried defiant tears when the doctors had told her the diagnosis.

He’d held her hand as she’d clutched the clumps of rose gold that had started to fall.

He’d cried himself when the oncologist had told them it had spread to both breasts and she would have to have them both removed.

He’d reassured her that nothing could stop his love and adoration of her. That her body wasn’t the altar he worshiped at, but instead her soul. That pure, beautiful, empathetic soul that burned so bright in her that it seemed she always glowed from the inside out.

Now here they were, long days ahead of them. He knew she’d need support and he knew he’d provide whatever she needed. He’d move heaven and earth, move the damn cliffs in Cornwall if it meant she suffered even a little less.

He was determined that he’d start counting again…her laughter, her smiles, her tears, her anger. He’d count, and he’d do anything to keep her with him for as long as possible. He’d willingly carve pieces of himself off if it would help her feel better about her lost pieces. He’d give up anything for her. He’d count no cost.

He’d bargain with the devil himself to feel her hand smooth over his head in the dark of their room again. Her fingers delving into his curls, twisting them around her fingers, calming herself the way she’d begun to do when he’d first laid his head on her chest. Soothing herself while also soothing him.

He squeezed her hand and watched her face, still so beautiful and fine and silently promised her everything he was, everything he had, repeating the vows they’d made all those years ago in the church down the street from his Uncle Teds, her long white dress rippling in the wind as they’d laughed and almost tripped down the three steps from the sanctuary to join their friends and family as they cheered and shouted their joy, showering them with birdseed and flower petals.

Honor, cherish, absolutely…but he swore this time that death would not part them.

If she left, he’d follow her.

She was his heart.

She owned his soul.

He smiled as her eyes fluttered open, tilting forward in his chair so that she’d see him immediately, and as he watched her eyes clear, felt her hand turn over in his and link their fingers, he swore he’d follow her forever.

Even into death.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry. 
> 
> I know it's been a while and this was so mean of me. 
> 
> I was listening to this song this afternoon and suddenly this happened in my head and I rushed to get it down. 
> 
> I hate that it's so sad, but I also think it's gorgeously, heart rendingly beautiful.


End file.
